Daemon MUCK - "You do not sleep?"

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Topic: "You do not sleep?" (Read 63 times)

Lane
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Joined: May 2008
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"You do not sleep?"
« Thread Started on May 24, 2008, 10:22am »

Characters Involved: Lane (Daemon: Tacita, weimaraner) and Tessa (Daemon: Phrixus, magpie)

This takes place shortly after "A Contract...Until Death Do Us Part"

Goldleaf Estates - Room 202
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High ceilings and large windows lend an illusion of airy space to narrow halls and moderately sized rooms. The light of the entry is a soft, golden glow, but farther within the apartment the harsher brilliance of anbaric lighting predominates. While the apartment has a rather masculine bent to it, slowly little touches show a woman's deft hand in decorating.

The walls are papered in a rich chocolate through the entry and living area, with white wainscotting and moulding. The furniture in the living area is beautiful but heavy: intricately made, but not very comfortable. The large open space is divided into a seating area and a dining area, with one corner is set aside as a study containing a folding desk, bookcase, and free-standing globe. Bric-a-brac and artwork are beginning to decorate the area.

Located down a length of hallway, the bedroom is coloured with deep blues which contrast with the perfectly white moulding and ceiling. A large four poster bed dominates the room, its dark wood matching that of the towering wardrobe and more delicate vanity. Another fireplace is set into the wall, its mantel decorated with a model ship under glass.

The kitchen boasts modern fixtures: a sink that runs hot /and/ cold and an enameled iron stove. The bathroom, as well, is modern with its hot and cold sink, water closet, and tub. Both bathroom and kitchen seem to have been recently painted. A second bedroom is tucked away down the hall, its door shut.
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Some time has passed since Mr. and Mrs. Lamport retired to the bedroom, and though it is late, Tessa now emerges alone (but with her daemon, of course), wrapped in an expensive silk dressing gown. Her hair has been let down, giving her a softer appearance than her usual up-do. It seems she has emerged so that she can converse quietly with Phrixus without waking Charles, and the two are exchanging rapid-fire French in lowered voices as she makes for the living room.

The living room is occupied by Lane and Tacita, though they are sitting so silently that it is easy to miss them. The pair cannot sleep, and after quietly observing the outside world through the window for a while, have decided to have a seat. The canine daemon hears the approach of their mistress long before the man does, and she shoots him a warning look. Lane returns it with a head tilt of his own before he notices Mrs. Lamport. A split second of indecision passes before he stands, quickly following with a soft, "Good evening, ma'am." Hopefully he hasn't frightened her, though the greeting might indicate that it is only the butler and not a scoundrel invading her home in the middle of the night.

Tessa does start slightly at the, what seems to her, sudden appearance of someone in her living room. But she is, as ever, quick to recover, stilling Phrixus who seemed set to take flight, and inclining her head to the man in acknowledgement and recognition. "Monsieur Lane," she greets. "It is late, non? I did not think you would be awake." She can't quite help but cast a quick look around to make sure he hasn't been using these late hours to get up to anything he shouldn't. At the same time, she begins to tighten her robe a little, feeling underdressed until she remembers this is her own home.

Lane bows his head, and his daemon does the same. "My apologies, ma'am. We could not sleep and thought that if we would prove least disruptive out here." He doesn't mention that if he had to stare at the ceiling of his room any longer he might go mad. The butler notices the small but telling gestures of the young woman, slightly shocked that she would assume him up to misdeeds, or feel unsafe in his presence. Then again, women must take such precautions he supposes, and she has not known him terribly long. He allows a heartbeat of pause before asking, "Is there anything I can get for you?" It's almost instinctive to do /something/ once his superior arrives. Tidy, prepare tea, /something/.

Tessa considers this a moment before nodding. "Of course." She seems satisfied that Lane isn't up to anything inappropriate and sinks now into a chair, her daemon coming to settle on the high back above her head. There's another moment of consideration to the offer, before she nods again. "Ah, yes, I will have a ... little something to help me sleep. A dram of the brantwijn, merci." Now that she's grown more accustomed to his presence, she begins to slip off more into her own thoughts, though Phrixus keeps a weather eye out as his person stares off into space.

"Right away, ma'am." Lane slips gracefully into action, efficiently preparing the drink for her with Tacita keeping and eye on the woman. He hesitates, not sure how much she expects. After a soft snort from the Weimaraner near by, the servant decides less is more. Mrs. Lamport can ask for more if she requires. Best not to insult her by implying she is overly dependant on the beverage. "Here you are, ma'am," the man says gently, holding the glass out for her to take. His voice is mild as he hopes not to disturb her from what are no doubt highly important thoughts.

In the short time it's taken Lane to prepare it, Tessa seems to have forgotten she even asked for the drink, so she stirs with some surprise as he offers it to her, before remembering and settling back with it. "Merci." She doesn't seem to mind the amount, but just stares at it for a moment, before speaking again, "Monsieur Lane?" she begins, as if about to ask him something. But then she reconsiders, shaking her head. "No, it is nothing. You may retire if you would like. I will not be requiring anything else this night," she notes, forgetting that he was already up when she got here.

Obviously anxious over her unfinished statement, he replies, "You're quite sure, ma'am?" Tacita shifts from paw to paw, trying to be discreet about it. He glances to his daemon, unsure if he should remind Mrs.Lamport that neither of them are at all tired. His companion gives him a stern enough look to convince him that such a statement could end badly. What if she thinks he was attempting to make a jibe at her intelligence? No, better to stare hopelessly at the ceiling for a few hours than to risk his job. He waits patiently for an answer, making no move to leave until the young lady has confirmed it.

Tessa equivocates a moment longer before nodding. "Mm, yes, I am certain. It is only just-" She pauses again, clearly not certain at all. But when she speaks again, it's clearly nowhere near to what she was going to say before. "I think that we should do lamb for supper tomorrow. You will see to the arrangements, yes? I think something nice for Monsieur Lamport. He will appreciate that." She nods a few times, trying to convince herself of that fact as she sits back again, now taking a sip of her drink.

Lane's immediate response is, "Of course, ma'am!" However, his eyes sparkle with curiosity. "I will do my best to prepare a fine meal for the two of you." The man wonders what she was originally going to say, but won't press the issue; it's not his place. Before departing, he offers, "If you find you need anything, please do on call me. I think I'll be awake for the rest of the night." That is a pretty bold statemnt for him to make. She has every right to wake him in the middle of the night if she wants something, that's why he's here. Tacita's flick subtlely, but the man knows her well enough to know that she's not pleased. Neither of them are looking forward to returning to their room, but they don't feel comfortable socializing with Mrs.Lamport. It's not proper. They're not close friends, they are servants. The butler and his daemon head towards their room, albeit a little slowly.

"Bien, merci," Tessa replies to Lane's willing agreement about the following day's meal. She looks over with very vague surprise at his comment. "You do not sleep?" But she almost immediately waves off the question for a more 'proper' response of, "Yes, of course. I will inform you if there is anything else. I should return to bed shortly." But she doesn't sound entirely sure that she will be doing as she should, with too much on her mind. She sits back again and Phrixus floats down to the arm of the chair so that she can stroke him lightly.

Lane stops. She asked him a question and it is one he does not feel uncomfortable answering. "Sometimes, ma'am, my daemon and I will be wide awake for days at a time," his voice is very quiet so that she can easily ignore his reply if she wishes. The man is torn. He can tell that she will /not/ be retiring soon, but he knows it is not his place to linger. His job is to make sure she is comfortable and looked after without overly interfering with her daily activities. The butler hesitates one second more before leaving the living room entirely. He feels regret that they should both suffer alone, but he also knows that it would be /quite/ improper for it to be any other way. However, he is alert for the sound of her voice should she wish to call for him.

Tessa glances over as she clearly does hear his answer, nodding absently into another sip of her drink, hoping the alcohol will help her escape any such similar fate. But no, even with the help of spirits, she won't be retiring soon, not with so many thoughts on her mind. There's something melancholy to them, but it's also not hard to see that she's feeling overwhelmed by something... And probably not so hard to guess as to what. She does almost call him back as he goes, but without any further excuses, she's at a loss, and so just holds her tongue. After a moment, the lowered voices begin again in their mother tongue.

Tacita's ears perk at the sound of voices, but relax when she realizes that the speakers wish to converse in private. She sighs quietly and looks her human in the eye. Time to go. Almost noiselessly, they slip into their room. The only sound to disturb the young lady and her daemon is the gentle click as Lane closes the door. The butler looks to his daemon, nearly invisible in the darkness. "So it goes, Tass," he murmurs, shrugging. "So it goes," the canine agrees just as softly. They sit together, Lane's hand stroking her ears, wondering how long Mrs.Lamport and her daemon will stay awake.

« Last Edit: May 24, 2008, 10:25am by Lane »

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